


tried goodbye a hundred times

by stuartwombly



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Dreaming, F/M, mostly sad emo shit, pretty much just reminiscing on the past, sort of thomas but more so from her pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 00:58:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14605710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuartwombly/pseuds/stuartwombly
Summary: Please don’t leave, Teresa begs silently as Thomas falls asleep beside her, an arm around her to keep her close, although she can’t feel it.Or, the one where Teresa sees Thomas in her dreams.





	tried goodbye a hundred times

**Author's Note:**

> took the title from nobody like you by little mix as i thought it was quite fitting for this. wanted to write something related to those six months from teresa's perspective as we were Robbed

_Please don’t leave_ , Teresa begs silently as Thomas falls asleep beside her, an arm around her to keep her close, although she can’t feel it. His breathing is steady, and she listens to the sound of hushed breaths as if it’s a bedtime lullaby. It’s a dream, of course, but it feels so real, real enough to leave space on the bed beside her, as if he really was there. In her dream, his arm is coiled around her waist, a light grip on her hips to keep her close to him as if she’d ever want to stray away from his loving touch, the same touch that leaves her reeling for more. She did, but she almost wishes she didn’t. Almost. Even in her dreams, she can’t sleep – she’s plagued by what she knows and feels, especially after what she’s done in the real world. Mostly, her dreams are a faraway land, a whole different world, a world in which none of this exists; the flare, wckd, anyone except each other. They’re the only people on earth but they don’t care because they don’t need anything else. It’s her getaway, her escape from the hell that reality has become. Her reality is a world of hurt and nothing more. This isn’t a world she belongs in.

Not all her dreams are so far away. No matter how far she runs, it seems that she’s unable to escape the truth.

In another dream, he’s fucking her hard and fast, thrusting his hips quick enough and filling her up so deliciously that it’s all she can force herself to think about. She’s full to the brim with pleasure, but she still wants more, wants anything he can give her so she can forget about what’s going to happen after when this is nothing more than a memory and she’s desperate to feel that ache once more, even if it’s just for the sake of old times. He tugs harshly at her hair when he wraps the dark locks around his fist and pulls, making her look at him. His name rolls off her tongue in nothing more than a shuddery moan, exactly the way she used to when he first had her, or before that when she’d touch herself and think about him when she was alone at night. This is a memory more than a dream, though still an escape, which is what she wants. She remembers the fire behind his eyes, overtaken by pleasure as he pants and whispers words of praise that are all too easy to swallow. _You feel so good, so perfect, t;_  she’s in heaven but also hell as she receives the cruel reminder that this will never happen again. _I’m gonna miss you, miss this so much._ It’s as if her brain is just taunting her at this point because she can’t get his husky, sugar-coated voice out of her head and for a minute it’s enough to distract her from the horrors of the real world. She just wants to stay in bed and think about the unforgettable taste of his lips and what it felt like to be in love with him, but she can’t afford to be selfish. A cure won’t find itself, so she makes the necessary sacrifice again and again, each time she wakes up.

Sometimes her dreams are half bad, half good. Sometimes they’re all good, but more than she’d like to admit, they’re all bad.

She’s in a dark room and the floor is wet. As time goes on, it starts to feel like less of a room and more of a tank as the water on the invisible ground soaks her shoes and rises to her legs. She can’t see anything, but she can hear a voice. His voice. A single word – a question? A statement? _Teresa. Teresa? Teresa!_ It’s all she can hear, and the noise gets louder as if someone’s turning the volume up on a pair of speakers. The water rises dangerously, and she panics, calls his name out into the seemingly empty pit of a room, and she’s met with silence. She’s sure this is a torture method. He’s not here, his voice sounds more like a recording played on a loop and there’s no exit, no escape from the flood that threatens to swallow her whole although part of her wants dive headfirst and just _let go._ She wants to remember them from the good old days, not from the complete mess that they’ve become. Sometimes, she thinks it would be easier to give in, because what does she have left? She has nothing but memories that have become tainted over time and a guilty conscience telling her that those sacrifices couldn't be for nothing, otherwise what was the point? Her thoughts, building up more intensely one after the other, effortlessly rolling out of her mind as if she couldn’t wait to let them back in after so long are distracting her from the severity of the situation, but she remains calm, now. She’s at peace, almost. At peace with how her life is a mess and nobody would care if she died today, not even the person that she cares about more than anything. Or so she thinks, but this is much more of a nightmare than a dream, so she’s unable to escape to her own little fantasyland and disappear in the way she wants to. 

Those are the kind of dreams considerably harder to forget.

Worse than dreams, though, are memories. Memories from the past, poisoned and destroyed for her until the point where she wonders why they gave them back to her in the first place. It’s a bittersweet feeling that twists her stomach in knots, makes her heart thump that little bit harder against her rib cage, and stabs her in the back with a dagger all at the same time. The memory that she can't seem to erase from her mind no matter how hard she tries, of course, is the night before they got the swipe. She remembers feeling unnerved and nauseous with anxiety all day, barely able to concentrate on her work and she knew why. She remembers being in Thomas’ room after their work was done, she remembers breaking down and sobbing into his t-shirt, she remembers the both of them crying, wordlessly comforting each other after because they didn’t know what to say; nothing could make the situation better. Nothing could change what was about to happen – they were going to forget each other after this, she was going to lose her best friend. _How could they do this to us?_ She remembers the dark-haired boy shushing her, attempting to calm her down as he wraps his arms tighter around her.

A sick part of her wants that back, wants to relive that pain, no matter how tormenting, because she was with him. She’s beginning to forget what that feels like. It’s almost as if she’s fighting herself because she wants to remember, but of course, it comes with a price. Remembering the good times includes the bad times too as if they’re a pair. You can’t have one without the other. She remembers the first time they kissed, but she also remembers how they were physically torn apart from each other by guards and separated for a month for sneaking around after curfew. She can never forget the worst one of all - the look he gave her that night in the mountains when she told him what she did. The look of shock and bewilderment, which soon turned to anger and an unfamiliar coldness that she never expected to receive from him. 

She tries to forget - pretends that they never gave her memories back to her in the first place so that she can't remember and therefore he can't hurt her anymore, but it only ends up making her feel worse. It's not his fault, it's _hers_. It's wckd's, even if she does believe in them. She can never forget him, her best friend, the boy she loves. That's when she stops pushing her feelings away and starts letting them in, consuming them, although she's convinced it's the other way around. 

And that's how her perfectly constructed walls come crashing down. 


End file.
